


A retainer full of teeth

by Marshmallowmachinegun



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Control Issues, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stream of Consciousness, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, Wetting, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 12:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8844808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marshmallowmachinegun/pseuds/Marshmallowmachinegun
Summary: All Deadpool wanted was to make Peter happy. All Peter wanted was someone to control.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anonymityvillhorror](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=anonymityvillhorror).



> The title is from the Nicole Dollanganger song "Have you seen me?" it doesn't exactly fit the plot, but for some reason that was what my brain gravitated towards while writing this. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6whLOYuqgfI I couldn't find an offical link on her bandcamp, so here is a link to her site https://nicoledollanganger.bandcamp.com/
> 
> Tw: Rape/non con elements, PTSD, and abuse. Nothing is really shown but it is heavily implied, so please proceed with caution.

_I probably deserve that. If not for today than something else, anything else_

 

_Everything else._

 

_I deserve whatever bad comes my way..._

 

  
Wade could name a thousand times he had begged for something. For love, for help, for mercy, for an end to his suffering.

 

Nothing ever came easily to him, the most basic of comforts a hard-won battle of wills.

 

One would think Deadpool would become used to such treatment after awhile, that his heart would harden and he would be able to look pain in the face and not flinch. Maybe he would even laugh.

 

Deadpool never laughed, not anymore. He had humor, but not laughter.

 

He thought he had found love many times, but when it was over another piece of his soul was hacked away. Like tearing the legs off of an insect; or a bird's wings being broken by a predator's maw.

 

' _I should have known._..'

 

How could anyone tell when another was going to turn on them? There was no way of seeing the betrayal, especially if you are so desperate for something, anything, that you become blind to the danger.

 

' _What did I do_...'

 

 _ **Everything**_ , he had done everything. Peter told him time and time again that he was not worthy of second chances, that he was the equivalent of shit under his shoe. And Deadpool readily agreed, nodding his head with the sort of devotion that one might see from a cult follower.

 

_'Yes, yes I'm worthless, I'm awful, but you love me.'_

 

Peter didn't love him. Wade knew that he was just a sack of flesh, something to use. He was blind, deaf, and mute. He was a puppet.

 

Peter didn't have to do much to break Deadpool's will, all he had to do was kiss him and Wade was his.

 

Forever.

 

Wade always healed, he always recovered and came back for more.

 

And more

 

And more

 

They met on blustery rooftops, always at night, never in the day. In the rain or snow, they would go to Wade's apartment, which Peter hated. He was always worried someone might see him, and know.

 

 _No one_ could know.

 

Not that anyone _would_ believe Deadpool if he told, who would willingly spend time with him? Who would...Do what they do? With him? It was laughable to even hint that someone date him, care for him, or fuck him.

 

And that's what this was, they were fucking. Or rather, Peter was fucking him.

 

Spidey had made it abundantly clear that he was the boss, not that Wade disagreed. He gladly got on his knees or his back for him, anything to feel closer to the person he had loved for so long.

 

There were rules, terms and conditions that Wade had to agree on, one of which being that Peter had complete control. Deadpool was more than happy to comply; having someone stronger than him, in both body and soul and mind, use him like this was an ultimate fantasy.

 

Relinquishing power, and going with the tide, surrendering to pain and pleasure was all he had ever wanted.

 

' _Don't stop, don't stop_ '

Peter was driving into him, harder and faster than a normal person could take, but Deadpool wasn't normal, so he took each of Peter's ruthless thrusts with an enthusiastic moan. Wade wonders vaguely if they were going to break the bed again. If they did he would just toss the mattress on the floor and leave it, he rarely slept in his bed anyway.

 

Peter had his legs slung over his shoulders, and at this angle, Spidey's cock was hitting his prostate like a battering ram. Wade couldn't do much else besides gasp, whine, and squirm; his hands were bound to his sides by webbing almost an inch think. Not that he could have broken free from just one layer, and besides, he didn't want to.

 

Peter's movements were becoming jerky and erratic, and Wade knew he was close and that soon this would be over.

 

He didn't want it to be over.

 

But he could never convince Peter to stay. Usually, after Peter came, the revulsion Spidey felt for him would return full force; he then would cut him loose, get dressed, and bolt. There was no changing that, no matter what Wade did to get him to stay.

 

Wade was always left sore bloody and deeply, deeply hurt. Sometimes he didn't even bother to finish himself off, it just felt so pointless without Peter there.

 

Without _someone_ there...

 

Deadpool gasped, arching his back as Peter came inside him; God he loved that feeling, he always had, the sensation of being filled and claimed. Even if no one could know, Wade knew he belonged to Spidey and that was all that mattered.

 

Peter pulled out of him with a wince, Wade already tightening back up and crushing his oversensitive cock. Cum and thin streams of blood dribbling from his abused entrance.

 

Neither one of them spoke as Peter cleaned himself up and got dressed, there was nothing to say.

 

Wade could beg, but Peter never stayed.

 

He knew he shouldn't complain, he was getting to have sex with him, and that was usually all Wade was offered anyway. Even that came begrudgingly. He wasn't good enough to love, but he was good enough to fuck.

 

' _Goodbye_.'

 

Peter used one of Wade's combat knives to remove the webbing. Now Wade could move again.

 

' _Goodbye Spidey_.'

 

Deadpool sat upright on the bed, healing factor kicking in and making it possible for him to sit without discomfort.

 

Peter had redressed in the all too familiar red-and-blue spandex that Wade knew and adored. In the moonlight, cast in half shadow, Peter looked even more beautiful than usual. Like an angel.

 

He was Wade's angel, even if he didn't know.

 

' _Goodbye Spidey_.'

 

Peter gave Deadpool one last lingering look, his expression was hidden by the mask, but even when his face was bare, Wade _still_ couldn't tell what Peter was thinking.

 

There was the sound of his webs attaching to the fire escape next door. And with the now famous ' _thwip_ ' he was gone.

 

' _Goodbye Spidey_ ,'

 

' _Love you_.'

 

XXX

 

If they weren't fucking, they were fighting.

 

Or rather, Peter was fighting him.

 

Nobody like Deadpool, so ergo, nobody liked Wade Wilson.

 

So when Peter ('S _pider-Man, he is Spider-Man in the daytime_...') Raises his fists to him, it's okay, nobody would bother to stop him, it was just Deadpool after all. He healed, he couldn't die, not physically anyway.

 

He could spiritually die, he could have his heart and soul smashed like fine china over a bashed in skull, but no one really knew him. No one had known him in so long that even Wade himself forgot who he was.

 

Or used to be, he hasn't been truly... _human_... for quite some time.

 

Wade couldn't recall what he had done to deserve this particular beating. The last thing he remembered was a man and a gun, but that described the latter half of his existence.

 

Peter always wanted Wade as far away from him as possible, never wanted him in the city unless he specifically called for him. But Wade never listened, he always came back, that was where the money was, that was where his loved ones were.

 

Or the ones _he_ loved, whether they returned his affections remained to be said.

 

Each of these incidents bled into one another, creating a long, agonizing dream washed in red. A dream less painful than his waking world, yet one he would give anything to escape.

 

Wade couldn't blame Peter for seeing him for what he was, a walking corpse; meat warped and bent into the shape of a man, he was nothing to those who would love him and everything to those who wanted to abuse him.

 

Humans aren't meant to be alone, and when love isn't offered, and they face the idea of nothing, what else could he do but run headlong to the people who wished to do him harm?

 

Harm was better than loneliness.

 

Harm was better than an eternity of numbness.

 

At least Peter was acknowledging his existence.

 

XXX

 

 

Deadpool was afraid.

 

'Afraid' was a demure description of what he was feeling.

 

He was terrified. Terrified of disappointing others, of being as worthless as everyone claimed him to be.

 

Wade knew that deep inside him there was something worthwhile. He couldn't be all bad right?

 

 _Right_?

 

But he was an Avenger now, he was a member of a team that he had admired and envied for so long. Wade was a hero, at least in name. He had a card, he had a room, he had everything he had ever wanted.

 

But he was afraid.

 

How could he prove himself when nobody listened to a word he said? All Wade wanted was a chance, just one, to prove that he was worth it, that he wasn't a mistake. But that chance would never come.

 

Peter would never allow it.

 

Fighting together was a dream come true. but Wade could never outshine the members of the team that everyone loved and cared about. Peter was one of those members. He was beloved and a hero to many, Wade wasn't a hero to anyone. Deadpool was just there to hand over money and act as a human shield. That was his value, and he wasn't going to question what had gotten him this far.

 

Not that Wade deserved the chance he has gotten. He had been told numerous times that he didn't deserve a second chance at life. He was a mercenary and could never go back. Deadpool was Deadpool, he could never be Wade Wilson again.

 

Not that he had anybody to be Wade Wilson for anyway...

 

The few people who tolerated him for five minutes liked _Deadpool_ , they didn't like sad, vulnerable, miserable _Wade Wilson_ ; they wanted who he pretended to be, not who he truly was.

 

Peter didn't want Wade _or_ Deadpool, he wanted a person he created through digging and piercing his body over and over again. Tunneling out a space to curl inside, like a tapeworm wrapped around his innards, residing and taking but not giving.

 

Peter carved a path through him that others had seen, but few had really utilized. The younger man saw what lay beneath the surface and dove deep to pull it screaming into the light.

 

And when Peter put his hands on him, Wade did a lot of screaming.

 

XXX

 

Someone was dead.

 

Wade hadn't heard who it was yet, but in battle, a civilian had got caught in the crossfire and fallen.

 

Peter would never allow a single death on his fragile conscience. No matter the circumstances, if anyone died, to Peter he had failed the world.

 

Someone was dead. Someone had to take the blame, someone had to pay for this mistake.

 

And Wade would fill that role. Like he always did, strung up like a carcass in an abattoir, helpless against the onslaught of fists and teeth and vitriol shoved into his chest; the scooped out trough where he used to have a heart.

 

His heart had been stolen away years ago.

 

Ajax took that from him, a punishment, so he could die.

 

He _should_ have died.

 

It was moments like these where Wade desired, truly desired, to die. Because death seemed so sweet to him now.

 

Sweet like Peter used to be.

 

The minutes stretched into endless hours while they sat in the suffocatingly small office, and with every breath he took, the next seemed to become further crushed in his larynx. Deadpool was no stranger to terror; unrelenting dread and he had been scandalously acquainted for quite some time now, but there was so much wrong here, so much that he couldn't fix. Because there was no hope of fixing it. He was wrong, he was _always_ wrong.

 

The door slam is what set him off.

 

It was no one important who closed the office door so roughly, just an intern wanting to pass some papers to Steve, but the resounding crash fired deafeningly loud in Wade's splintered mind.

 

All he knew in that moment was that he had to get away, as far away as he could, run until he was safe.

 

But he wasn't safe _anywhere_ , no one could protect him from a pain he willingly inflicted on himself. A pain caused in part by someone whom no one would believe capable.

 

This was Wade's infernal cage, his hellish antechamber that he willingly strode into, that he locked tightly and swallowed the key with a Cheshire grin.

 

There was nowhere to hide in Avenger's tower, no place fee of surveillance, or people with prying eyes watching him run.

 

_Run_

 

**Run**

 

Avenger's tower was a big place, the winding hallways and numerous stairs making it all too easy to keep his feet moving. To struggle to outpace his splintered brain.

 

His feet began to drag after perhaps an hour, the heavy slide of steel-toed boots screeching on polished floors. It all faded numbly into background static. White noise in between radio frequencies, a hard rock station blearing into classical.

 

Deadpool fell to his knees, then to his stomach, hands over his skull in a childlike plea for quiet and seclusion.

 

Reality seemed all too tenuous as he was, mired in his private abbadon and struggling to stay somewhat calm. Everything around him fuzzy and blurring softly at the edges, fading into a blackness that seemed to seep into the back of his eyes, touching his brain with bruising fingertips.

 

Fingertips a lot like Peter's; spindly and sharp and created seemingly for one purpose, to tear his insides to shreds. Ravenous birds pecking away at his tender sinews until nothing was left but bone.

 

Yet Wade's flesh grew back, it never stayed split and broken for long. He healed, he got up, he went back again and again, demanding his evisceration.

 

What was worse than asking for your own torture?

 

"...Ade? Deadpool?"

 

Someone was speaking to him.

 

He glanced up at the perfect, strapping form of Steve Rogers, Captian America, kneeling above him like a beatific vision, the Angel Of Peace teaching peasant children prayers.

 

Wade had never felt dirtier in his life, laying on a floor soaked with his own sweat and the bile that had managed to leak through his clenched teeth.

 

' _Speaking of leaks_...'

 

When Steve had managed to get the shaky, two-hundred pounds of dead weight known as Wade Wilson off the floor, he glanced at the sight of a darkened patch of filth staining the crotch of his pants.

 

The sharp, ammonia stench of urine immediately clouded the hall, there was no denying what Wade had done whilst cowering on the floor.

 

"We'll get a clean up crew in here" Steve rubbed the back of his neck, looking so bewildered that it bordered on disturbing. Steve Rogers always knew what to do.

 

Well, he always knew what to do unless he was faced with the situation at hand.

 

"Deadpool...Wade...?"

 

What could he say? What could he do? Steve hadn't the slightest clue what was happening, what was going to happen, all he knew is that Wade took off running and pissed the floor.

 

Even if he did know, what could he do? Could he cause a riff in such a powerful team? Separate the meat from the gristle so easily?

 

The sacrifice was an effortless choice, even if Steve didn't know he was making it.

 

Because the world didn't need Deadpool in any form he took.

 

XXX

 

 

It was raining that night, so Peter came to see him, rather than making Wade search for him like a treasure at the bottom of a cereal box.

 

The brief smattering of raindrops on his ramshackle roof sent electric shots down his aching spine. The pain was centered in his back and stomach, but radiated through his entire being, from his bruised insides to the tips of his trembling fingers.

 

Wade's arms had been left unbound, Peter didn't need to chain Wade to make him kneel, the older man did that all on his own now.

 

The gleam of pride in Spidey's eyes more than made up for the agony in his body, struggling to fix itself as Peter fucked into the healing wounds up inside him.

 

 

Deadpool rested his shaking palms over Peter's tightly corded back, grounding his mind into reality and not lose himself in the minefield of his memories. Dreading as always the moment when it all ended and Wade was left empty and alone.

 

Always alone.

 

Spidey rolled over, onto his back beside Wade on the bed, panting and red-faced as he came down from the high, his cock still half hard and streaked in blood.

 

Wade's blood.

 

He could beg, but Peter never stayed.

 

Except for tonight, as everything began to dim into nothingness, he felt Peter's arms around his shoulders, holding him close enough to smell the earthy scent of his shampoo, see the faintest veil of freckles dotting his thin cheeks. He was close to him, and not alone.

 

He wasn't alone.

 

_'I'm not alone'_

**Author's Note:**

> Well that was a journey.
> 
> So about, oh, twelve thousand years ago, anonymityvillhorror requested this story (well, she actually requested it from a much more talented writer) and I offered to write for her. 
> 
> Again, that was twelve thousand years ago. But I'm the worst and took much longer than need be. 
> 
> I'm honored that anonymityvillhorror trusted me with such a sensitive subject and I hope I didn't dissapoint! You're the best for both your encouragement and your saint-like patience! 
> 
> (P.S: The quote at the beginning of the story is from the Deadpool comic, I just don't remember which issue off hand becuase I suck https://68.media.tumblr.com/0efb950aadceea14207f5b8f0f73ee22/tumblr_ocfad50qxW1vo1os2o1_540.jpg)


End file.
